The Silver Clock
by TheSmartypants
Summary: Ch 5 up! Almost a year after they parted, Lyra and Will are struggling to go on with their lives when Lyra discovers a mysterious clock that creates blends between worlds. Once again, Lyra and Will are caught in a battle of worlds and fate. After so lon
1. Chapter 1: The Dream

**Full Summary** (It gets cut off in the description/rating area): Almost a year after they parted, Lyra and Will are struggling to go on with their lives when Lyra discovers a mysterious clock that creates "blends" between worlds. After so long apart, can they reunite to be what they once were to save their Republics of Heaven and Earth and stop Dust from disappearing forever?

(Ooh, cliffhanger... summary might change, depending on how the story turns.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters like Lyra, Will, Dame Hannah, Mary Malone, Mrs. Parry... those are all Phillip Pullman's creations. All I can say is... Thank you, Mr. Pullman! You're the real smartypants, not me.

**Author's Note:** I'm afraid chapters 1 and 2 may seem like something anyone else would write (though that may be just my opinion, probably some of you will agree) and I sincerely apologize- I am just trying to set the stage. Please keep reading-- Things start to get interesting and twisty in chapter three and four and will only get more so with the updates!

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Chapter One: The Dream

If she were the sort of girl who cried often, Lyra might have done so. As it was, she let out a small groan and rubbed her eyes. They were puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep and from constantly staring at her alethiometer before referring to its corresponding book of meanings. She was sick of trying to puzzle the thing out. It had come so easily to her once. _Why_ wouldn't it still?

Pantalaimon, her dæmon, flowed onto her lap and began to nuzzle her. "It en't working, Pan," Lyra murmured softly. Her eyes reflected a familiar longing. "If only Will were here…"

Pantalaimon shot her a warning glance. Lyra's words trailed off into nothingness: they both knew what she meant. Lyra shook her head fiercely, trying to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think of Will, not now.

It had been almost a year since she had watched his fingers close the window between her Oxford and his, sealing the barrier between the two worlds forever. Yet not a day passed that she didn't think of him. Not a day when she didn't talk to him in her head, or think of the way he had braved everything, of the way he had kissed her, of the way he had looked at her…

A hand landed on her shoulder, startling Lyra out of her reverie. _The last thing you need is to be seen as a weepy romantic_, she scolded herself silently. She glanced up and recognized the owner of the hand: Dame Hannah, Lyra's alethiometer teacher and friend.

"Look at you, child," Dame Hannah spoke softly. "You need rest. Go, now."

Lyra opened her mouth to protest, as was her nature, but found her self ushered along towards the rooms she shared with five other girls before she could get a word in. Realizing that Dame Hannah was right after all, she grudgingly flopped onto her neatly-made bed and rapidly fell into troubled sleep.

* * *

She crept along the edge of an abyss, a silent procession of ghosts behind her, Will at her side. They trudged onward, speaking none, faces grim. Lyra's thoughts began to wander. She thought of falling, and the thought induced a strange kind of vertigo in her. She vaguely remembered a time back in Jordan with Roger when she had defied her fear and walked along Jordan's roof, just to frighten him. With that thought came another: She was Roger's Lyra once again, just has she had been for so many years of her life; she didn't need to creep along the wall like an insect.

But all of a sudden she lost her footing and began to slip. At first it was simply comical, then merely annoying. Then the real terror set in: she was falling. Falling into that dreadful abyss, slipping away from everything.

Nothing could save her. The few ghosts who tried to do so only found themselves hurtling through her like the shimmering apparitions they were. The harpies, the only ones who could perhaps rescue her, only laughed. She saw Will standing near the edge, eyes wide with terror, powerless to do anything but watch as she was dragged away. She called his name over and over again, little by little losing all hope. He shrank until suddenly she couldn't see him at all, only the darkness enveloping her like a glove. With one last, desperate effort, she cried "Will!"-- and woke with a start.

* * *

Lyra sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Sweat dripped down her forehead. It was still dark out, and the rest of the girls were fast asleep. Lyra's sheets were a tangled mess.

She shivered. She'd had the dream so many times before. It was always the same: the slipping; the terror settling in; Will, powerless, shrinking and shrinking; the blackness enfolding and covering and smothering her.

In real life, the harpy Lyra had named Gracious Wings had swooped down and rescued her. She had lived to set the ghosts free from the world they were imprisoned in. She and Will had ensured that no soul would ever again have to endure the monotonous eternity of the world of the dead.

But the abyss still haunted her. The mere thought of being shrouded by that darkness made her shudder. At first Lyra thought that she was just afraid of it still, but someplace under that something whispered that her life was like an abyss. She felt like she was falling and falling, growing ever more remote from the one person she thought could save her, and now she was in so deep that there was no way out.

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Please read on! (Well, and reviewing would be nice, too...) 


	2. Chapter 2: Will's Fight

Chapter Two: Will's Fight

Will scowled. He'd done it again. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? He was so, so sick of the taunting. He'd lost control.

He sat in detention, sporting a swollen lip. The two next to him, Alan and Jim, were slightly worse off. Alan's nose was still bleeding; Jim's lip was cut and a significant bruise was beginning to form on his upper arm. Will determinedly avoided looking at them.

Well, he'd had to fight them. First, the two boys had started in about his mother, saying she was mad and stupid. That didn't provoke a response. Will had heard the same ridicule for many years of his life and had learned how to deal with it. So they had turned on him about girls and how he'd had nearly nothing to do with them. Just when he was really missing Lyra. It was stupid, he knew, to let them reach him like that, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't done anything with the girls because none of them came even close to measuring up to Lyra. Those boys didn't know what it was like to be in love. They hadn't even the slightest idea.

So he'd fought them. And he had had to lie his way out of it, so nobody would look too closely.

"What made you get into the fight?" the principal had asked him. He was a gruff man by the name of Mr. Withers, so boring that he made Will's eyes glaze over. He was rather small, balding, and had hints of stubble on his chin. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"I don't really know sir," Will had replied steadily. He had looked Mr. Withers beseechingly, completely immersed in his part. "I guess I just cracked under all the pressure and such."

"Hmph," Mr. Withers had snorted. Will had known that the man didn't believe him, but he also knew that Mr. Withers wouldn't get anything else out of him. The principal had then turned on the other boys. "And how about you two?" he had inquired, his voice deathly low. "Do _you_ have an excuse?"

"No, sir," they had mumbled vaguely.

Alan and Jim knew that if they told what the fight was about the news that they had ratted would spread like wildfire and they would receive utter disgrace from their peers. They wanted to avoid that at all costs. Will didn't care. He was at the bottom of the social pecking order anyway. No, Will had his own reasons: If the teachers looked too close, they would find out about his mother. Even though, with the help of Mary Malone, he'd gotten her on health care and she had been slowly improving, she was still temperamental. Will didn't want them knowing. The last thing he needed was the entire staff sympathizing and prying into his life.

Presently the bell rang. Will breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

Mr. Withers, who had been watching them, glanced at the clock. "All right, you may go," he told them. He paused. "But only as long as you promise never to do this again."

As if they were children, Will thought. As if we still think grown-ups are always right. Of course he would fight again. He wouldn't start it- probably- but that was the way things tended to work out.

"Of course, sir. We won't," they all responded automatically. The three walked calmly to the door and out of the school. They then went their separate ways.

So probably nobody would start in on him for a while, Will reflected, now that he'd beaten those two. They weren't the brawniest kids in the school, but they weren't exactly the scrawniest either. The question was how long the peace would last. All it took to start another fight was a lack of brains.

Will hopped on his bus. It was a city bus, and it took about twenty minutes to reach the stop nearest his house, and a five minute's walk after that, which gave him plenty of time to contemplate things. He couldn't tell his mother about the fight, obviously. But what would she say if she knew? What would Mary say?

What would Lyra say?

No, he told himself sternly. He was not going to torture himself over Lyra, not now. Even though it had been almost a year since they had said goodbye. He watched dusty buildings covered with vines whiz by, just as life was speeding by. My God, had it really been almost a year? It seemed like just yesterday. Almost a year…

Whoever said that time heals all wounds didn't know anything, he thought.

Kirjava, his dæmon, nuzzled him. Will dug his fingers into her lustrous black fur. Not everybody could see her, but she was always there, always beside him, permanently fixed in the form of a large cat with millions of different shades of black and grey shifting underneath her fur.

"It won't do either of you any good to be pining away; you know that," Kirjava told Will.

Will did know, deep inside him. But he also knew that it was so, so hard to let go.

"I dunno, Java," Will told his dæmon as they walked home. "It's like sometimes I'm scared that if I don't think of her, it'll all go away." He couldn't imagine forgetting. That would be the worst thing possible, worse than death or torture or anything else that life might throw at him. "As if it doesn't hurt, none of that would have happened… It's far-fetched, I know, but it's there. As long as it hurts, I know that I'm still alive, that it's still part of me."

Kirjava looked up at him with sympathetic eyes, but they were silent; his house was in sight.

They entered through the side door. "Hullo, Mum!" Will called cheerfully.

A petite, blonde woman descended the stairs. Her blouse was buttoned incorrectly, but she didn't seem to notice. "Will? Is that you?" she called. She stopped at the sight of him. "Hi, darling! How was your day?" Mrs. Parry took in his swollen lip. "What happened to your face?"

Will sighed with relief; his mum was in one of her good phases. "I hit my lip on my locker," he lied hastily.

"I hated those lockers when I was in school." Another figure appeared on the stairs: a woman with short, black hair. "I probably had dozens of bruises from the times I hit my head on them."

"Hi, Mary," Will said in response.

"So, how was your day, other than the locker incident?" Mary pressed him.

"It was pretty good," he replied. "I aced my science test."

"That's great, honey!" Mrs. Parry exclaimed. She noted the expression on Mary's face. It was a complicated mixture of anger, sadness, confusion, politeness, and a feeble effort to put on a poker face. She paused. "I think I'll take a walk," she said.

Her timing was a bit too convenient, Will thought. Maybe she suspected something was up. Still, who was he to protest? "Okay. Have fun," he told her. She headed out the door. "Bye, Mum!" Will called after her.

When she was gone, Mary waited a few moments before she spoke. "You were in a fight," she accused softly.

Will didn't reply. Instead he looked down and scuffed his shoe on the wooden floor.

"Will, you can't go on doing this. One day or another you're going to get into serious trouble. What if you can't say that you were defending yourself, your mother, and your home, like last time? What if I'm not there to help you out of it?" Mary fought to control herself, but her temper was flaring like a pile of dynamite about to explode. "And your mother, she knows something's up. I know you haven't told her about Lyra and your adventures yet, and you'll have to soon. Your pretense won't last much longer. She's getting better, Will. She's not as oblivious as you seem to think."

Will still remained silent; his face only hardened.

Mary's dynamite exploded. "Look, Will, I know it's been hard for you, but you've got to keep it real. Your head's up in the clouds, and if you don't get it down to earth soon, you're going to miss everything in the present. Lyra wouldn't want that, and you know it. It won't do anyone any good to lose yourself over her." Mary didn't even bother to try to remain remotely calm anymore. When this only earned her a ferocious glare, she pushed further.

"Will, listen to me! D'you think it's been easy for me- for any of us- to come back? Do you think I just said, 'Let's go back to jolly old England, shall we! You've killed a man and I lost my job, destroyed equipment, and forged an identity card. Let's go sort all of that out. This will be fun!' I just left merrily, did I? Do you think _I _don't miss Lyra and the _mulefa_? Do think this- _any_ of this- was easy? Do you?

"Well, I'll tell you something, Will," Mary cried angrily. "It wasn't. Not one bit.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she snapped, as formal as a stranger, "I have to go make dinner."

Mary turned, then winced and paused. She twisted to face Will again. Her voice softened. "Look, I know it's been the toughest for you, but that doesn't make any of what I just said any less true." With that, Mary turned on her heel and sauntered into the kitchen.

Will gaped after her. This was one side of Mary that he had never, ever seen. He stared at the kitchen's closed door, jaw hanging open, trying to comprehend what had just happened. "I never knew she had a temper," he whispered quietly to himself. Vaguely he heard his mum open and shut the door.

"Hi, Elaine!" Mary came out of the kitchen as cheerful as if nothing had happened. "How was your walk?"

"Just fine," Mrs. Parry replied. Neither of the women looked at Will.

Great. So now his mum really did know something was up. He hated this. All of it.

Will turned and fled upstairs. He collapsed on his bed, his head in his hands. "I just can't stand it," he muttered to himself. "I can't stand it, I can't stand it, I can't stand it."


	3. Chapter 3: The Silver Clock

**The Silver Clock**

**Full Summary** (It gets cut off in the description/rating area): Almost a year after they parted, Lyra and Will are struggling to go on with their lives when Lyra discovers a mysterious clock that creates "blends" between worlds. After so long apart, can they reunite to be what they once were to save their Republics of Heaven and Earth and stop Dust from disappearing forever?

(Ooh, cliffhanger... summary might change, depending on how the story turns.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters like Lyra, Will, Dame Hannah, Mary Malone, Mrs. Parry... those are all Phillip Pullman's creations. **Thank you Mr. Pullman!!!**

**Author's Note:** I know that chapters 1 and 2 are a little like something anyone else could write (at least, I think they are, a little) and I am really sorry for that. I am just trying to set the stage. This chapter is when things start to twist a little. Please read and review! Thanks to those who already have!

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Chapter Three: The Silver Clock

Lyra swore. Nearly a year at St. Sophia's, and yet she _still_ got lost? Something was not right. She had thought she knew this place.

She stood at an intersection of several paths in the maze of winding hallways they called a girls' school. She set off down a hallway at random. Did it really matter if she went to her next class at all?

She came to a stairway leading down to the underground levels. She stepped down carefully. It was strange that she'd never been down here before, Lyra mused. She had made it a point to explore every nook and cranny of St. Sophia's. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember seeing this staircase before. A tremor of excitement shot through her. Lyra _loved_ mysteries like this.

She arrived at yet another intersection. She paused. Instinct screamed at her to take the path on the left. Lyra trusted her instinct; it had gotten her out of several tight places in the past. Presently she set down the hallway.

Suddenly a shocking sight greeted her eyes, and though Lyra was no pansy, she couldn't help but gasp. Pantalaimon wove nervously around her ankles. They stood in a giant crypt, but that wasn't what was so appalling. Lyra had seen crypts before, back at Jordan. But not like this. Here bodies were scattered every which way. Some had met gruesome ends, from gun wounds to heads bent the wrong way, but others showed no visible injuries. Lyra couldn't tell what had killed them, only that something was very, very wrong.

Why on earth were these bodies at St. Sophia's? Why weren't they given a proper burial or put in tombs like the Masters of Jordan? Why were they killed? _What_ was going on?

Lyra slowly made her way down a curiously neat aisle through the bodies. She didn't even think anymore. She acted purely on instinct, on whatever came to her head. She stumbled along the path until she came to another body, supported by a stone wall.

It was a man, slightly bearded and a tad plump. He had the look of a scholar. Lyra examined him. He had no wounds that Lyra could see, but in his eyes she saw an odd mixture of complete terror and stubborn defiance. That look in his eyes made her skin crawl.

The man was hunched over something. Something important, Lyra realized. Whatever it was, this man had died for it. Was that what this whole massacre was about? Grimacing, Lyra bent and moved aside his arms and with slight difficulty (for though the man was dead, he had quite a hold) retrieved the object.

It was a clock, once bright silver but slowly dulling. Lyra noted with curiosity that none of the hands moved. She turned it over. On the back was some sort of inscription in the elegant letters of a foreign language. But Lyra had studied many foreign tongues, and she had seen nothing like this. She blew to clear a layer of dust.

Before she could examine the clock any further, she heard a noise. Someone was coming! Her mind raced furiously, trying to come up with a good excuse for being down here and for having the clock. Then she realized that there was none.

Listening carefully, Lyra heard more than one voice. They were heading her way. She searched for a reasonable hiding spot where she could listen without being discovered. She couldn't find one; the chamber was too open. Maybe if she got out now, they wouldn't catch her…

Not knowing what else to do, Lyra clutched the clock and ran. She dashed out of the crypt and turned the corner. She saw the people down the hallway. They strolled to the chamber where she had come from, coming from the other direction. It was a man and a woman, holding each other's waists. Lyra stared at them for a long moment before her senses returned to her. Then she turned and ran the whole way back to her room.

She collapsed on the bed, feeling her sanity slowly return. A thousand questions buzzed in her head. What was the clock for? Why had those people died for it? What did the writing on the back of the clock mean? Why were the numbers backward? What did the man and woman want with it?

The man and the woman… Why were they there? Did they want the clock? Did they have anything to do with the deaths? Whose side were they on in this invisible war Lyra had stumbled upon?

Now Lyra was not only thoroughly confused, she was wondering if she really was going crazy. The man and the woman couldn't have been there. Not in real life. Was it a dream? A hallucination? They couldn't be real. They couldn't, because the man and the woman were Lyra's dead parents, Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter.

Lyra _knew_ her parents were dead. Dame Hannah had told her so, and she had learned it from the Master of Jordan. Dame Hannah had never told her how her parents had died- Lyra doubted that she even knew- but she was certain that they were dead. Really, besides the fact that many people she trusted had told her of their death, wouldn't she have seen them? They would be in her world after the windows were closed.

After a long, straining period of time in which Lyra tried to figure things out, she gradually fell asleep. It was bliss. Her dreams were uncomplicated this time. At least something was.

* * *

Lyra jolted upright. Something was amiss. In the distance she heard the bell tower toll midnight. All was quiet.

That was when she heard it. The ticking.

She struggled out of bed and over to the dresser drawer where she had hid the clock. Sure enough, it was making the ticking noise. And what a strange tick! Ordinary enough, yet not ordinary at all- something about it made her shiver. Everything about this clock was odd.

The clock's hand was turned to midnight. The second hand spun round. As she watched, the minute hand moved counterclockwise once. It appeared to be counting down to something. But what?

Lyra shuddered. Strange things were happening. She wished she knew what was going on. It seemed she had been shoved into the midst of an invisible war, and she didn't know whose side she was on.

She shoved the clock facedown to the bottom of the drawer. Her clothes almost completely muffled the sound. Then Lyra stumbled back to her bed and slowly slipped into quiet, dreamless sleep.

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Thanks for reading! Now please review!

Chapter Four coming soon... What's going on with Will? What is the clock's purpose? What will happen on Midsummer's Day? All will be revealed...


	4. Chapter 4: The Blend

**The Silver Clock**

**Disclaimer:** The same thing that you read in all the other chapters. I don't own Lyra, Will, Mary, St. Sophia's, the Botanic Gardens, or any other characters or settings. However, I do own the clock and the concept of the blends.

**Author's Note:** To anyone who's read this far, thank you. I would be amiss if I did not also thank my wonderful reviewers. So here they are: Latios151, Hilz72, Dreaming-Cat-369 (who, I must add, has reviewed twice!), Ella Cinders, Nianeyna, and namine101. Thanks you guys! Also let me say:

namine101: In this chapter you can find out more... but I'll still leave you wondering, because if I told you everything, there wouldn't be much of a story, would there?

Nianeyna: I'm glad I gave you hope. I hope that this chapter will continue to do so.

Ella Cinders: It's going.

Dreaming-Cat-369: Yes, we all love plot developments, don't we?

I apologize to have bored all you non-reviewer readers with this. Now, on with the story!

* * *

Chapter Four: The Blend 

Will woke up early that morning. He had no idea why, and yet he couldn't get back to sleep. And then he remembered: it was Midsummer's Day.

He sat up in bed. Today was the day that he had been thinking about for the past year. Today he would get to be with Lyra, more or less. Even in their separate worlds, maybe they could feel each other. Maybe their worlds would align, just for a moment.

He got out of bed and quickly dressed. He had things to do, stories to tell his mother, and most importantly, places to be. One very significant place.

Every other morning, Will had risen with a sense of dejection, of knowing nothing was right and may well never be. But today he bustled with an excited sense of business. Today he had a mission. Today he would be with Lyra.

He rushed downstairs and stopped at the sight of Mary. She looked like she hadn't slept at all. Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "Will," she said gently, "what are you doing up?"

"M-Mary," Will stuttered. "I was just- you know, just about to…" his voice trailed off. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Nothing. Just thinking," she replied quietly.

"Okay…" Will was a bit worried about her. He knew Mary very well, and had never seen her so quiet and reflective. He seemed to have stumbled upon many new sides of her that he had not previously known existed. Something strange was going on. But Will knew when Mary didn't want to be bothered, and he could tell that now was one of those times.

"I'm going to the shops. I'll be back a bit after one o'clock." Mary knew about the Botanic Garden, but all the same he didn't want to tell her where his true destination was. He dashed off a quick note to his mum.

"All right, then. Have a good time. I'll be here when you get back." Mary smiled at him- a sad smile, and a little forced, but a smile all the same.

Will turned to leave, then paused. After a moment's hesitation, he came back and hugged Mary. "Thanks," he said. It was all they needed to say.

As they pulled away, Will saw Mary wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. But she put on a cheerful face and sent him out the door, leaving him wondering just what exactly was going on.

* * *

Lyra stared at her reflection. In her hands she held a faded green sleeveless blouse and a worn tartar skirt. She slowly lifted them to her face and breathed in the scent, feeling the memories swirl around her. She had thought that she'd be ready for Midsummer's Day. She had thought that she would be able to spend an hour with Will and then move on with her life. She had thought wrong. 

She gradually donned the worn garments. As she pulled the blouse over her face, a scent hit her, as painful as an arrow. Will. She breathed in the smell. It was agonizing and blissful at the same time.

Lyra sank to the floor. She had tried to keep her emotions bottled up for so long. She had put on a brave face and made sure no one at St. Sophia's knew of the turbulence going on inside, and where had it gotten her? She was in even more pain than before, and she couldn't hide her feelings much longer.

Lyra looked in the mirror, at the sorry state her reflection was in. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. It grew and multiplied, and then, slowly, for the first time in a long time, Lyra really did cry.

* * *

Will stepped outside. His mind was buzzing with excitement and thoughts of Lyra. He fantasized of talking with her and of happy endings, of Pan and Kirjava wrestling playfully while he and Lyra kissed passionately… 

The reality hit him like a bulldozer on a freeway. Today, he knew deep down, was the day that he would have to acknowledge, once and for all, that he would never again see Lyra until they died. There would be no happy ending.

Will sat on the step outside his house. His head spun. He had tried so hard to not let anyone see past his tough outer shell, but he was falling apart and his barrier was breaking down. He felt like a small schoolboy once again: lost, exposed, and vulnerable. Angry at himself and at the world, tears gathered in Will's eyes, threatening to spill over. He shook his head. He would not let himself cry.

But the tears paid no heed and overflowed anyway. Before he knew it, he was sobbing and shaking with all the grief in the world. _Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all_, he thought bitterly. He wondered if that saying was true, or if he would have been better off if he had never met Lyra at all.

_No!_ every particle in his body protested. Will knew they were right. It had been the adventure of a lifetime, and he was glad more than anything that it had happened, as much as it pained him now.

"Well, then," he said quietly.

Will stood and walked to the Botanic Gardens. His eyes were red and puffy, and every step of the way pained him, but he knew he had to do it. It was the only chance he would have all year, and he couldn't let Lyra down. It took a long time to reach the Garden and when he finally did he was exhausted to the bone. He was awakened, however, by the prospect of being with Lyra a little, even if he couldn't see her or talk to her.

He strolled along the fancier parts of the Garden until he came to a wooden seat under a spreading tree. He smiled; the tree had grown a little since he had last been there. Will settled himself on the bench. He tilted his head to the sky. "Lyra," he whispered softly.

* * *

When her eyes had dried enough to see out of them properly, Lyra rose and dabbed her red face with a handkerchief, trying to clear the horrible spots left by her tears. It was no use. It didn't really matter much anyway; she had no one to look pretty for. There was no point in primping, so why was she starting to do it? 

Lyra shook her head, trying to clear the few smidgens of vanity in there, and walked out of the room. She began to head for the Botanic Garden. As an afterthought, she turned back and grabbed the still-ticking clock. She wasn't sure precisely why she wanted to take it, but something told her that it might be needed.

She left St. Sophia's with perhaps less caution than might be preferred, since there were still classes going on. Lyra didn't really know what would happen if she were caught and she didn't really care. Her mind was occupied elsewhere. Besides, she knew that she could talk her way out of almost anything.

Every step hurt her, but Lyra knew that she had to go. She wanted to, and also she didn't. She was afraid of facing the truth, that she would never see Will again, but she was also eager just to be with him as much as she could. An internal battle raged, but in the end, eagerness won out.

Finally she reached the bench and the tree. The tree was a little taller, she noted, and the leaves were greener. Smiling, Lyra seated herself on the bench and closed her eyes momentarily. After an instant's rest and reflection, she took out the clock and studied it. Whatever it was counting down to, there was not much time left. Only a few seconds, in fact. Lyra watched the last few seconds tick their way back to the number twelve, and then-

The clock stopped abruptly. In the distance all sorts of bell towers began to sound the midday bell: some low, some high, one fast and one slow, but each getting to the time eventually.

That was when everything around Lyra seemed to shift and change. The tree above her shimmered and twisted- sometimes appearing old and gnarled, sometimes young and sprightly. The very air she breathed appeared to have a different quality to it. The differences were so subtle that she could hardly see or feel them, yet they were there all the same. She found that she could perceive the changes much more easily if she didn't look at them directly. Only the bench under Lyra remained unaltered. And next to her on the bench another outline shimmered, nearly undetectable: a figure that looked almost like Will, and then nothing, Will again, and then someone else entirely. Lyra reeled in confusion. She stared at the clock. It had caused this, whatever it was.

She was thrust away from the bench and onto dirt ground that had not been there before. The dirt quickly changed back into grass. The world was spinning. Lyra cried out, to no avail. She found herself staggering away from the bench and the clock. She breathed in the air that smelt of-- traffic fumes? No, the fumes were gone now, replaced by the smell of salty ocean spray. There was no ocean near the Garden, nor was there traffic. Was this, then, a mixture of worlds? Was that what the clock was for, to create these blends between universes?

As swiftly as it had begun, the blend stopped. Lyra, lying on the ground, gasped for air. _What_ was going on? She was so absorbed in her confusion that she didn't hear the sounds behind her for several moments.

"Lyra?" a voice called.

Lyra started. She knew that voice. She had heard it so many times- in her dreams and fantasies even more often than in real life.

"Is that you? Lyra?"

She turned. It was Will.

* * *

I leave you readers with a slight cliffhanger. Haha. Coming up next: Lyra and Will are finally reunited. Will it be the fairy tale they always expected it to be or just... strange? You'll have to wait to find out! 

Thanks for reading!

TheSmartypants


	5. Chapter 5: Reunion

**The Silver Clock**

**Author's Note:** Wow. After a little over two months, chapter five is finally up. Yup, I'm just that quick of an updater. Oops. I am really, really, really (really!) sorry. This chapter turned out to be surprisingly hard to write. Couple that with an inordinate lack of time, and there you have it. I will try to make it faster in the future, I really will.

Many thanks go out to my wonderful reviewers, who have kept me going, and here they are: apricot. pie (formerly namine101), Hilz72, Ella Cinders, Claireyxox, away with the faeries, "JohnandSlation", "mistress haruka", SunflowerLynx, CHEESE PLEASE, Mostodtroll, KaiserMonkey, Peace Love And Ringo Starr, Latios151, SassyVenus, XIII Dragon, and "claire". Thank you so, so much, you guys! It means so much to me.

And since I always like to respond to my glorious reviewers, here's that.

apricot.pie: Thanks for reviewing! And I did know what you meant. But... sorry, it is awkward. Hope you like it anyway!

Hilz72: Thanks! And I did, actually, have a good time, and I hope you did too!

Ella Cinders: Glad you liked it! Here's your reunion... probably not how you expected it, though... Hope you like it anyway!

Claireyxox: Thanks! I'm really glad that you thought I got Will and Mary in character. Thanks especially for the constructive criticism- I love that stuff.

away with the faeries: Glad that you enjoyed it. Thanks for reviewing!

"JohnandSlation": Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you thought it was good, and I'm _really_ glad that you told me what you like about it, since that always helps. Thanks!

"mistress haruka": Yup! Don't you just love them? (grins) Thanks for reviewing!

SunflowerLynx: Yup, and here it is... hopefully, you will enjoy it! Thanks for taking time to review!

CHEESE PLEASE: Glad you thought it was good, and glad I made you happy! Thanks!

Mostodtroll: Thanks! I'm glad that you liked it. The dream ties in later on. Honestly, I never even thought about Harry Potter when I was writing it, but now that you point it out, it does have some similarites.

KaiserMonkey: Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you liked it and thought that it's better than the average HDM story, because that's kind of what I'm aiming for. Also, double thanks for the constructive criticism. Oops! I can't believe that I forgot to notice that. Thanks so much! Oh, wait a second- I have a question. Why did you delete your poem Aesahaettr? (I know that's not how you spell it, but I can't do the ae thing) It was really good! You should repost it. Please? Thanks for taking the time to review!

Peace Love And Ringo Starr: Glad you liked it. Wow, I seem to be saying that a lot. Oh well, it's true. And here is more. Thanks for reviewing!

Latios151: I don't want to kill you. But cliffhangers can do that to you sometimes... (grins) Thanks for reviewing!

SassyVenus: Yup, and here it is. Glad you enjoyed it.

XIII Dragon: Yeah, I know. Anyway, here's more. Thanks!

"claire": Ok, I updated. Maybe not terribly soon, but still... Thanks for reviewing!

Wow, that took a while. But you, my most excellent reviewers, deserve it.

One thing: I was a little confused when so many people said that I had put a lot of cliffhangers. I think that I only did one, which was the end of chapter four. I guess it can be interpreted differently, though.

On the subject of this chapter: I wouldn't near call this chapter my best. But it is an update, and after two months, I'm really not inclined to wait much longer and do some mega-editing. (But if you think I need it, let me know.) Anyway, like I said, it turned out to be really hard to write (and I guess I'm just making excuses, but it _was_, so bear with me) and I'm not sure how it turned out. Oh, and most likely some of you will be turned off by it, because it is most definitely not your typical LyraWill reunion story. Why, you ask, am I torturing innocent readers who just want a bit of fluff? Because I'm getting tired of fics that go, essentially, like this:

_On Midummer's Day, Lyra fell asleep on the bench. When she woke up, she wasn't sure where she was. She inhaled traffic fumes. This must be Will's world! She had to find him very quickly; she had missed him so much!_

_Somehow, Lyra managed to find her way to Will's apartment. She rang the doorbell and he opened the door, recognizing her at once. They kissed passionately, making up for all the years they had spent apart..._

Yeah. I don't know if I'm the only who sees pretty much the same thing over and over, but I personally am getting a little tired of it. (Note: This does NOT mean that if you have written a reunion fic, I think it's bad. I have read good ones- not _too_ many, but they are _definitely_ out there- and some people manage to pull it off. This does not mean that if I have not reviewed your story or anything, I think it's bad and/or think that it's a story resembling the one above. I do not hate happy endings or fluff. I do NOT want anyone to take offense at these comments.) All I'm saying is that a lot of the writing seems similar these days, which is partially why I wrote this chapter the way I did. I also felt that their story needed a little more depth- not just the "Lyra and Will have to save the worlds" kind of depth, but emotional as well. They're not sure who they are anymore; they're not sure about the other... Do you see what I mean? Anyway, if you still hate it after reading this, you can flame me all you want. But keep in mind, folks: **This is only the beginning...**

**Disclaimer:** Must I even bother with this anymore? Honestly. Here we go: I don't own characters, settings, etc. (I own the clock. I own the blends. I own my socks. That's about it.)

That has got to be the longest Author's Note I've ever written.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter Five: Reunion**

Lyra stared at Will. Will stared back.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said.

Lyra mentally kicked herself. This was _Will_. Here he was at last, close enough to hold, and all she could say was "hi"? She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and kiss him. And yet, something held her back.

She realized that she was still lying on the ground. She moved to pull herself up but found that she was shaking uncontrollably. Will reached down and offered his hand. A smile tugging at the edge of her lips, Lyra took it, and a shiver ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the breeze in the Garden.

"How…" she managed to stutter.

Will shook his head. "I…" he trailed off, staring at her intensely. Lyra could easily tell that he was even more confused than she was. "There was this…" He paused and tried to recall exactly what had occurred. He looked down and scuffed his foot on the ground. She glanced at him inquiringly. He looked up, and for a moment their eyes met.

A blush creeping into her cheeks, Lyra looked away hurriedly. She, too, looked down at the ground, at the bench, at the tree, at anything that was not Will.

Eventually, though, she had to meet his eyes.

They _were_ the same eyes, Lyra realized. They belonged to the same body by the same name. But they seemed so different that Lyra couldn't help but wonder if they were really the same ones she fell in love with a year ago. She felt herself drowning in their depths. In his eyes, she saw that he had learned things since they had left each other. Well, so had she. Things that the other would never know.

Disgusted with herself, Lyra tried to clear her head of such thoughts. What was wrong with her? She had dreamed and wished and hoped for this moment for a year. Here it was and she could only stand blushing like an idiot. No matter how much they had learned and grown, he was still Will, and she was still Lyra. He was the one she loved, the one she would always love.

Wasn't he?

Slowly, Lyra felt herself beginning to understand. The time had taken its toll on them. They had each expected their reunion to be a joyful, perfect thing. But they each had their own experiences, their own troubles, their own joys that they had dealt with without the other. They had forever immortalized their younger selves in their minds, forgetting about the difficulties and only remembering that perfect kiss by the stream. They had remembered the other as they wished to: Will, strong and loving, and Lyra, fiery and beautiful.

Will _was_ himself as much as ever. Even with Lyra's idyllic memory, he was mostly how she remembered. But she had changed—no, they _both_ had changed. Strife had brought them together, and strife, it seemed, had also torn them apart. Could they ever be the way they once were again?

Well, Lyra thought to herself, even if they _had_ changed, perhaps Will could help her figure out what to do with the clock. She beckoned him over to their bench where it lay. It looked so harmless, sitting in the sun with the vibrant leaves rustling overhead. But Lyra had seen what it was capable of, and she knew better.

"Here," she said, thrusting the clock at him. "I dunno what it is, but I think it caused… well, whatever it was."

Will took the clock into his hands and studied it, gazing on the elegant roman numerals and the gold lining around the face and the curiously shaped dials with which to turn the hands.

"I've never seen anything like it," Will murmured, almost to himself. "Strange… It's got a bit of an eerie sensation about it." He turned the clock over and studied the flowing script on the back.

"Do you understand it?" came Lyra's voice, interrupting his thoughts.

"No," he replied, his eyes still fixed on the writing. "It's not like anything in my world. Not that I've seen, anyway."

He paused and looked up at Lyra. "How did you get this to work?"

She shook her head. "I didn't," she replied. "It just… happened. Maybe someone fixed it up before I found it, I dunno."

"Where did you find it?"

"In a crypt at St. Sophia's. My school," she added, noting his bemused expression. When it only increased, she held up her hand. "Don't ask me why it was there, I got no clue. All I know is that I found this crypt that I hadn't ever seen before, and inside there were all these dead people- I _told_ you, Will, I _don't know_ why- and some were plainly murdered, all bloody and such, but I couldn't tell what had killed the others. They just- and I know it sounds odd, Will, but it's true- they just had this look in their eyes. They were terrified, but… they weren't giving in. It gave me the creeps." Lyra stopped, shuddering.

"Anyway," she continued after a moment's pause, "at the end of the crypt, there was this scholar. He had one of those looks in his eyes, too, and he was hunched over something…" And Lyra proceeded to tell Will about the discovery of the clock, the realization that these people had probably died for it, the feeling of having stumbled upon an invisible war, the shock at seeing her dead parents, and finally the ticking in the middle of the night.

When she was finished, Will shook his head in amazement. "That's crazy," he muttered. "And your parents! I can't…" he grew fainter. "I can't get my head around it."

"I know," she replied. "Me neither. It seems so…" Lyra trailed off, the thought having struck her that she was actually _talking_ to Will. She was talking to him like a casual, sane person.

…And like a friend, nothing more.

Where was the fire? Where was the passion? Where was the love that they had held so dear to their hearts for over a year? Surely they couldn't have changed _that_ much.

Lyra wasn't sure about Will anymore. But more worrisome, she wasn't sure about herself.

"It seems so… what?" Will urged her on.

Lyra snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face him. "Just so odd," she said, tucking a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear. "I mean, Dame Hannah—she's my alethiometer teacher—told me, and said she had learned it from the Master of Jordan. And even they _weren't_ telling the truth—which I'm sure they were; I trust them—wouldn't I have seen them before now?" She paused. "I wonder if I'll ever know what happened to them…"

She looked back at Will, who was now once again examining the clock. "Can you figure anything out?"

He sighed, which she took to mean as a no. She watched him turn it over and back, studying the script and the numbers and the dials.

Will almost jumped in surprise. Holding the clock with the sun's light on it, he was almost certain that he had seen symbols around the edges of the numerals. He turned the clock another way; the symbols vanished. He positioned it so that the sun's light was once again reflected off the surface and the symbols reappeared. An hourglass, a crescent moon, a metal helmet, a sword…

He slowly turned the dials so that the hour hand was pointing to the sword, situated right above the twelve, and the minute hand was pointing to the hourglass, which was right next to it.

For a moment, the world was eerily silent. The breeze that had rustled the leaves stilled; the sparrows ceased their song; the entire Garden seemed to be holding its breath.

And then the ticking.

Will was up, eyes wide in confusion, and Lyra was beside him, pacing and shaking with worry. "Will, what did you-"

But her words were cut off by an abrupt gust of wind, and though Will watched her grow louder and louder until she was shouting, he couldn't make out a thing she was saying. He found himself losing balance and had to grab Lyra's shoulder to keep from falling. He almost pulled them both down, but miraculously they managed to stay on their feet. Everything around them was shifting and changing; the ground was heaving; yet, nothing else seemed to feel it. The changes, so hard to see and yet so plain, overwhelmed their senses, and to keep himself steady Will reached out and grabbed a gray, withering tree branch. It had not been there before. Nevertheless, Will clung to it for dear life, supporting Lyra around her waist, and the two willed the blend to stop.

Astonishingly, it did; the two collapsed on the ground, hearts beating wildly. Lyra rolled over and groaned, her breath coming fast and furious.

But they were no longer in the Garden. Instead, a bleak landscape took form in Lyra's vision. The tree that they had clung to was still next to them, and there were a few more like it scattered around, but most of what she could see what a desolate plain, without a living soul in sight.

Suddenly, panic welled in Lyra's breast. It couldn't be—no, it was impossible—but then where was—

"Pan," she mouthed desperately, too shaky to even produce the sound. _No_, she thought_, this can't be it. It's— it's impossible; how could we have gotten here? No, there's no way…_

But then she saw it: a steady stream of shadows that, when examined more closely, proved to be a mass of pale figures.

Lyra's heart rose into her throat. _No._ She'd thought that she wouldn't see this place again for a long, long time. Unless—no, her flesh was still solid, so it couldn't be that… _Oh, no; oh, no; oh no._

Will wasn't looking at the landscape; in fact, he had taken hardly any notice of it at all. He was instead staring at Lyra, whose eyes now burned with terror as she looked all around.

Will wasn't sure what had happened to them in the year that they had been apart, or why he was so confused about his feelings, but he did know one thing: nothing that made Lyra that alarmed could be good news.

"Lyra?" His voice was faint; it took an incredible amount of effort just to get the words out. "What's wrong?"

She turned to face him, panic in every line of her body. "Will," she whispered shakily, "I think we've been here before…"

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**Author's Note:** In case you're getting mad at me again, I don't really consider this a cliffhanger, seeing as you all can probably guess where they are. This chapter may be subject to change, if I decide that I need to tweak the plot a little. 

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!

TheSmartypants


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